


John Watson is Better than Tumblr

by SweatersAndScarves



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blogging, Deductions, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Sherlock is a blogger, Teenlock, Tumblr, exchangelock, he is obsessed with tumblr, john is a new kid, teen druglock, teenlock first kiss, teenlock with three nicotine patches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-06 10:37:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1854973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweatersAndScarves/pseuds/SweatersAndScarves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was like Sherlock had used Photoshop on his life to make it seem like he didn’t need people, like he was above them.</p>
<p>And Sherlock was really good at real life Photoshop, because he had John believing that he wasn’t even people until that moment. Then John realized that not only was Sherlock people, he was fatally so.</p>
<p>Sherlock may have even convinced himself that he wasn’t human, John wasn’t sure, but he found himself incapable of not staring at him, curls bobbing as his lips occasionally flicking a smile as something funny came across on his tumblr.</p>
<p>John wanted to kiss those lips, so fucking bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	John Watson is Better than Tumblr

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kawaii-livvykitty](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=kawaii-livvykitty).



“What do you even do on your phone?” John sighed.

He’d been sitting with this for a week and he’d gotten no more than three sentences out of him the whole time. Even to that question he hadn’t expected a response.

 

Last Tuesday had been his first day at this school, and he’d seen this kid, sitting alone, and it seemed like an opportunity to make friends. At least that’s what he was telling himself. Deep down he knew he’d just had it up to his ears with popular kids at his old school and wanted to sit with somebody quiet.

So he tried to be polite, started with a simple, “This seat taken”  
Though it obviously was.

When the curly brown haired hid didn’t even look up from his phone John continued with a, “Right, I’ll sit”

At that point the kid looked up, and proceeded to go on a rant that went something like, “You don’t want to sit here, go sit with those excessively annoying ruby players, you’re one of them, but I’m not going to tell you how I know that.”

John had been perturbed enough by the display that he continued to sit with the kid for a whole week. It was better, he’d reasoned, than actually going to sit with the athletes.

 

“Tumblr”  
A one word response, the kid didn’t even lift his head enough to bob the curls out of his eyes.

“Wow, what a conversation” John muttered, stabbing a gooey clump of peaches with his plastic fork

“You never said you wanted to have a conversation” The kid pointed out smugly, his eyes stuck on his phone like elements with an ionic bond.

“Wow you can speak” John rebutted, rolling his eyes. Inwardly he was waiting like a kid for Christmas to see if he would respond again.

“Yes, people tend to do that, and I believe I’ve already proved that I had the ability. Last Tuesday, unless you’ve forgotten, people tend to do that. Quite tedious of them” He lowered his phone to the table.

For a moment John just kind of sat there with his mouth hanging wide open, then he snapped out of it, “And what are you, you arsehole, a squid?”

Okay, it wasn’t the nicest thing to say, but John didn’t really regret it at all until the boy brought his phone back in front of his face, he would have sworn with a frown, and answered snippily, “You knew what I meant”

“Sorry sorry” John responded, “But, come on, no comeback? I probably would’ve sworn at you if you’d said something like that”

The kid didn’t look up, instead he made the same gesture he had on the first day, over to the table of loud annoying athletic kids, spilling over with them and their girlfriends. A lone Island of boys who could hardly be human, fighting for some sort of dominance.

John ignored him. The idea of sitting at that table appalled him, instead he leaned forward, “So, Tumblr, that’s blogging right?”

The question reaped no response, “What do you blog about? Are you any good?”

Sherlock smirked a bit, “I have twenty seven followers”

“Is that a lot?” John asked, “What’s so interesting about Tumblr, what is it?”

“a lot, is a relative amount, it’s ‘a lot’ compared to what you have, which I would assume is zero” He set his phone on the table and turned it to face John, “This is tumblr”

He scrolled through a few posts, then in the unified motion, only a person who over used their phone was capable of completing, he closed the app and turned off his phone. Sliding it in his pocket.

“You reblog things from people, they reblog things from you, sometimes they follow you, sometimes you follow them. Quite simple really” He explained

“What kind of stuff do you reblog?” John asked, hoping to keep the kids attention, maybe just long enough to learn his name.

“Horror” The kid responded, a fascinated type of smile came across his face, “Horror mystery, and I’ve written posts on fifty seven different kinds of Tabaco”

John wasn’t sure which to ask about first, so he put it all out at once, “Why are you so fascinated with mystery… and Tabaco? Do you smoke? What year are you even in? You can’t be more than 14 your parents let you smoke?” He took a breath, “And what, by the way is your name?”

John didn’t expect the kid to be able to keep the questions straight, but he did, “I’m into mystery, and each kind of Tabaco has a different effect, it can be quite useful information, the two topics go together, I don’t smoke, but sometimes I use patches, I don’t live with my parents, I am fifteen, and I’m year 12. Skipped one. Sherlock Holmes, nice to meet you”  
  
The boy- Now Sherlock, stuck out his hand, which John took after he was able to comprehend everything Sherlock had said, and once he did, there were a million other questions on the tip of his tongue, but he held them in, “John, we met last week”

Sherlock shrugged, “No we didn’t, you sitting down, and me telling you to leave is hardly meeting. We met today”

“You’re in my year” John realized, “Are you taking chemistry?” He pulled a slightly crumpled paper out of his bag, and flattened it out, pointing at a problem.

“No” Sherlock sighed, “I’m in astronomy, it’s literally the most useless science in existence. I took Chemistry last year”

He slid the paper towards himself, “Oh this is easy, you’re having trouble with this?” He almost scoffed.

“Hey, least I’m not the one who can’t grasp Astronomy” John smirked.

Sherlock pulled a pencil out of his bag, and scribbled some notes in the page margin explaining how to complete the problem, then sliding it back, all in around twenty seconds, “It’s not that I can’t grasp it. Who cares, who needs to know? I’ve deleted all the garbage they teach us at least six times and now my brain just won’t accept it, my life would be exactly the same now if we went around a small purple leprechaun instead of the moo- er sun” He ranted, blushing just slightly at the end.

John looked at his paper, “Incredible” He mumbled

“Pardon?” Sherlock asked

“You can solve the hardest problem the teacher assigned in twenty fucking seconds, but you don’t even know that we go around a star”

“Wait.” Sherlock paused, “The sun… is a star?”

And all John could do was laugh, out loud, even though he knew it was rude, and impolite and all those things.

“Sherlock” John muttered when he finally caught his breath, “You are most likely the smartest person I will ever meet. How is it that you’ve managed to simultaneously be the stupidest?”

Sherlock shrugged, and gave John a suspicious one over, “Selective memory”

“Why’re you looking at me like that?”

“Most people have a… er, different response to my knowledge in whatever subject” Sherlock replied

“What other way might a person react to speed chemistry?” John asked

“Tell me to piss of, punch me in the face” He shrugged, “You’re not quite the stereotypical athlete, though, are you? You get scholarships to buy rugby equipment, your family isn’t quite well off, but you use to be. Your Mum kicked your dad out when you were little, and he died maybe a year or two afterwards, drunk driving, and now she gives all her extra money to your brother for college, but she doesn’t need the money, does he?" Sherlock's voice got quicker as he went, anticipation and excitement speeding him along.

"He's gotten himself some kind of a scholarship, and uses your mum's money to but something, alcohol probably, you don't like it, not because you want the money, but because you want your mum to have it. You aren't telling her though, because you love your brother, even though you don't love what he's doing. You're worried she'll disown him if she finds out, aren't you. Not quite a typical life. It's made you more sensitive to other people’s feelings, not in the gooey kind of way, but you'll never beat someone up, and you aren't keen on hurting feelings" He finished with a deep breath and looked at John expectantly.

John’s face contorted in a similar way that a twelve year old boy’s does during the first day of sex ed. Like he’d seen something impossible, but also amazing, confusing, and just slightly off putting. “You- How did you, fuck. That was fantastic” He mumbled, “Bloody hell Sherlock, how did you do that?” His expression broke into a smile

“Started with your phone, it’s thicker than mine. Your headphones have a buckling area because they get bent when you leave them in. Most people turn their phone upside down when they put it in their pocket that means the jack is on the top, so it’s a gen 3, your mum didn’t buy it though, your brother gave it to you after he got a new one. Your mum isn’t the type of person to waste money so if she bought you a phone it’d be cheap, unlike your clothing which is sturdy, and made to last, so expensive but not on the trend. Your mum works to buy them, she’s a nurse, which is how I know your dad left”

He pointed at Johns ear, “You have a scar, I can tell by the way it’s healed that it was treated at home, which means your mom is a nurse, or a doctor, but estimated income says nurse, she’s the sole income, that means a single parent, because your personality says self-sufficient, but your dad was there at some point, though he left early, and never came back, which I also know because you don’t have any mental scars that would indicate strong memories.”

He took a breath, “Would you like me to stop?”

“No” John shook his head, fascinated by the thought process, “go on”

“So I got the drinking on your dad’s part from your brother. The phone was obviously a bribe, he would have sold it, and since I know your dad got kicked out, and I know that you aren’t telling your mom, but it’s not because of the bribery, and your brother is at school, so drinking is just about all he could be doing. You would only be so worried about your mom if they had the same addiction”

He paused for a breath, “What else, ah yes, rugby. That was fairly simple. The same that I used to deduce your mother’s job is a giveaway, the size and shape indicate a cleat, and you have a few bruises on your arm, which makes me think rugby. We played it in P.E. once I came out covered in bruises.”

He looked at John, “What did I get wrong?”  
  
“You were mostly right, but… my brother is a sister, My Mum isn’t a nurse anymore, she’s recently become a doctor. That’s why we moved”

“Damn it” Sherlock muttered under his breath, “Should’ve caught that”

He continued, “My sister; Harry, she wasn’t bribing me, she was trying to apologize, and my dad didn’t get kicked out, he left. I was five, I remember him, but he was shit, which is why I wasn’t scarred by that or his death”

Sherlock sighed, “Well, it’s better than last time”

“I’d say it was pretty fantastic still” John mumbled, putting a crisp in his mouth, “But, now I think you owe me some sort of life story, seeing as you know mine, like you said you don’t live with your parents”

“Oh, well technically I do, but they spend 90% of their time on business, so usually it’s either just me, or Mycroft is home as well which isn’t preferable. He’s an absolute prick. He’ll be out of the house next year hopefully, he’s in his last year of college, secured a job with the government, even though he’s only 22, the show off had to go and skip four years.”

Sherlock sighed, “He’s trying to make me live with him, I’m refusing, it’s only because he feels responsible for my use of nicotine. My refusal has nothing to do with that. It’s entirely based on the fact that he’s an entirely awful human being and has been since I was born.”

He paused, “But that’s not really a life story, is it? That’s just me moaning about my brother. When I was in third year I got bumped up to fourth and the teachers wanted to push me forward again, my parents said no. They didn’t want me to become a social outcast, it was a nice idea really, but I’m not any better off than I’d be if I’d skipped Fourth year as well. I took biology in year 8, physics in year 9, chemistry in year 10, chemistry two in year 11, and then they stuck me in astronomy this year because all the other science classes I could’ve had conflicted with orchestra, which I’m forced to be in against my will. And that is all you need to know”

With that Sherlock pulled his phone out of his pocket, and opened tumblr, an action which caused John to groan, “Why are you always on tumblr”

“The internet is so much nicer than people” Sherlock mumbled, letting out a short half chuckle at something on his phone

“Is the internet nicer than me?” John asked, “Y’know people aren’t actually that bad”

“Well it wasn’t until you said that” Sherlock mumbled, scrolling back through, “Nothing is ‘that bad’ until it hates you’

“Sorry” John mumbled, “I’m just trying to be your friend”

“And you wonder why I hate people” Sherlock muttered, and with that he left, not looking up from his phone.

 

 

Sherlock was there again- much to john’s surprise- the next day, he was relieved. He’d begun to feel guilty, and thought that maybe he should have gone after Sherlock or something. They didn’t talk all that much, they just kind of sat together, with Sherlock blogging, and John prodding at conversation.

It continued like that for weeks, they hardly talked, Sherlock helped John with chem, sometimes he put down his phone, and then one day Sherlock came to the table after John.

Usually he was pretty much put together perfectly. On that day however, his shirt was untucked, his hair was a mess (John personally thought he could pull it off) and his eyes were red. In general he looked frazzled, he didn’t have his phone out either, he was holding a textbook. Not only was he holding it he was actively flipping through the pages as he walked, then dropped it on the table as he sat down, resting his chin on his fist, and immediately resuming the panicky flipping.

“You look like you haven’t slept in days” John murmured, looking at him with wide eyes.

“I haven’t I kept forgetting to, and then.. Astronomy test, fuck I’m going to fail. I haven’t slept in like four days”

That was probably the first time John heard Sherlock swear, he though that it made you sound stupid, like you couldn’t think of any better words.

“How do you forget to sleep?” John asked, “How are you awake?”

“Shut up, I’m studying, If I don’t get an 98 on this text I’ll get an A- in the class, okay, I can’t get a fucking A-, I need an A, and I’m going to get like an 80 on it, and I’m going to fail. I drank like six cups of coffee this morning, and I’m wearing like two nicotine patches, don’t fuck with me right now”

John opened his mouth, but Sherlock cut in, “And don’t tell me it’s illegal, because I bloody know it is, just fuck off, and don’t talk to me”

“Maybe you should go home” John said slowly

“I can’t go home, I can’t just leave school” Sherlock muttered quickly, as he flipped through pages.

“Go to the nurse and tell her you’re sick. The state you’re in she’ll believe you”

“Can’t” Sherlock mutteres

“Why not? You’ll do better on the test if you’re not on nicotine when you take it, and maybe if you aren’t verging on an anxiety attack

Sherlock dropped the pages he’d been holding, “I walk to school” He breathed out, “If I tell the nurse I’m sick she won’t let me walk home. She will try and call my parents and I’ll get caught in an extensively long conversation about why she can’t call them or Mycroft, and then she will call Mycroft, and he’ll know I’m not actually sick, and he’ll make me go take the test”

“I’ll drive you” John cut in, “You tell her that your brother’s in class, and I’ll tell her that I will take you home”

“And before you say anything” John added, “You shouldn’t be at school like this it’s an awful idea, I think you should go home”

Sherlock swallowed, then he opened his mouth. The he closed his mouth, “Okay. Lets go”

He shoved his book in his backpack, and John dumped his tray in the trash, and they walked down to the nurse where Sherlock acted as ill as he possibly could, and complained of dizziness, and nausea, and John said he would drive him home, and she signed them both out.  
Sherlock got in John’s car, after he store at it for three and a half minutes, just to make sure John wasn’t actually a serial killer, then John drove to Sherlock’s house, at which point Sherlock felt socially obligated to invite him in.

John accepted the offer, and they climbed three flights of stairs, up to Sherlocks room which was an area of organized chaos. There were stacks of books in every nook, and notes hanging out of each. The walls were covered with papers and sticky notes, and posters, his desk was cluttered beyond belief, and his bed? Well that was made perfectly, probably because It had been out of use for three nights.

“Let’s have lunch” John mumbled, “I’ll call for takeout”

“No thanks” Sherlock muttered, pulling his textbook back out along with a spiral, and sitting on his bed, “Studying”

“Sherlock” John sighed, “You didn’t come home to study, you came home to rest, and calm down”

“I am perfectly calm” Sherlock muttered, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it off, then replacing it with a cotton tee shirt, scanning the textbook page all the while.

“You’ve actually got three nicotine patches on” John mumbled, “You actually wore three bloody patches to school?”

Sherlock nodded, not giving an upward glance

“So what are you? An addict at 15?”

Sherlock froze and looked at John, he grabbed the corner of one patch, then pulled all three off in one swoop, slicing through the deafening tension like a knife through butter. He tossed them at the floor, “Not an addict” He muttered, “A recreational user”

John was shocked for a moment, then he shook his head, “I’m gonna go order Chinese. Try to not die of stress”

He stepped into the hall and ordered takeout, when he came back in Sherlock was lying on his bed, scrolling on his phone

“Tumblr?” John asked

Sherlock shook his head, “It’s either Tumblr, nicotine or an anxiety attack”  
  
For a moment John wondered if there was a line to be drawn from what Sherlock said to the way he used tumblr excessively in public.

Eventually John removed the books and papers from Sherlock’s bed, then took off his shoes, and sat down, leaning against the footboard of the bed, his feet just meeting Sherlock’s

John ran his fingers along the fabric of Sherlock’s bed sheets, they were surprisingly normal, just like the rest of his room. The whole house was silk and flowers, and beautiful, and posh, and so perfect it almost made you uncomfortable.

Except Sherlock’s room, and John found himself thinking that maybe it was because Sherlock himself was so fantastically amazing that anything else would be overwhelming, and that maybe he was just now realizing that because just like the house Sherlock was so perfect he was made uncomfortable by it.

But he wasn’t actually perfect. It was like Sherlock had used Photoshop on his life to make it seem like he didn’t need people, like he was above people.

And Sherlock was really good at real life Photoshop, because he had John believing that he wasn’t even people until that moment. John realized that not only was Sherlock people. That he was fatally so.

Sherlock may have even convinced himself that he wasn’t human, John wasn’t sure, but he found himself incapable of not staring at him, curls bobbing as his lips occasionally flicking a smile as something funny came across on his tumblr.

John wanted to kiss those lips, so fucking bad.

The thought perturbed him a bit, there was no way Sherlock wanted to kiss him, so he tried to make small talk, “Your feet are ridiculously cold”

“Your feet are fantastically warm” Sherlock responded, setting his phone beside himself, looking at John with a bit of an eyebrow flick, that seemed to say, ‘I know you want to kiss me, I know because I’m Sherlock and I deduced it based on some fucking logic you don’t understand”

“Astronomy is incredibly stupid” He added, “Why can’t I be in Chemistry?”

“I’d trade” John mumbled, “I hate my chem teacher, Professor. Smidget can suck it”

“He hated me” Sherlock mumbled back, “Always tried to fail me, but I just really knew chemistry really well”

After that there were about forty five seconds of silence where the boys took turns staring at each other, then one of them looked when they were supposed to look away, and John leaned forward and smashed his lips into Sherlock like the baby waves as the beach smash against sand in the middle of the afternoon right between tides; soft, but fast, and just right.

Then the doorbell rang and John had to leave to get the pizza, but as he left he swore he heard Sherlock mutter, ‘John Watson is better than tumblr”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very sorry that this is really boring, but I had no inspiration and this was all I could think of, and I feel bad because it's probably poorly written because I'm just not a great writer, but I hope you liked it at least a little. I really had no idea where to go with your suggestions, because there was overlap with your dealbreakers so I just left out violence alltogether


End file.
